Call to trial
by Cri86
Summary: There's always a moment when everyone must come to terms with their mistakes. Now that moment has arrived - for Lotso. Warning - not for Lotso fans.


**Call To Trial.**

**I**

_Where the hell was he?_

That place did not look like the familiar interiors of the Sunnyside Daycare Center, nor like the squalid junkyard where he had been trapped and withheld against his will. The foul stench of the garbage was gone. So were the toys who had relentlessly mocked him in the days before. Frowning, Lotso turned his large head around.

He wasn't outdoors, that much he could tell. But in the pitch darkness that surrounded him, he wasn't able to distinguish a thing. And how in the world had he ended up there, wherever _"there"_ was? He couldn't remember having ever left the junkyard, either on his own or carried by someone.

For minutes that felt like an eternity he held his breath, _waiting_. But even though his ears were stretched and his eyes wide, the bear couldn't pick a sound, a movement, _nothing_. Was he alone? If there had been someone else in the room – a kid, an animal, or even some other toys – he would have heard their breath. Yes, he _was _alone. With a relieved sigh, Lotso relaxed against the chair on which he had found himself sitting. Now, if he only he could figure out how to get away from—

Suddenly, a beam of light fell upon him. It was so bright that Lotso had to raise a paw to shield his eyes.

"Don't run" said a cold male voice behind his back, making him jump. "It would be useless. You can't go anywhere."

"Who's that?" gasped the bear. "Who are you?"

A pause – _Lotso could imagine the stranger's lips curling in a sneer._ Then the voice spoke again.

"My name wouldn't tell you anything."

"But, but – I don't understand. Do I know you?"

"Our paths haven't crossed before, if that's what you mean. Of _that _I am most grateful."

"Then what am I doing here?"

"Why? Anything's the matter?" The cold voice laughed sardonically. "I thought you _liked _places of ruin and despair. Were the nights in the Caterpillar Room more comfortable perhaps? Yes? _Well_."

Lotso stiffened. "What do you mean? I don't know anything about nights in the Caterpillar…"

"No, you probably wouldn't." The voice was filled with contempt. "You always watched things from a safe distance, didn't you? Safe and secure in your little truck…"

"I've had enough of this!" snarled Lotso, and leapt to his feet. He did not get very far; suddenly, with a flapping noise, three clawed, shrieking, winged creatures flew in his face. Lotso tried to wave them off, but his walking stick had remained in the junkyard. Overwhelmed by their assaults, he staggered backward and fell down on the chair.

"I thought I had told you not to move" hissed the cold voice.

"I…" began Lotso. But he was cut off sharply by another voice from above, this one a female, haunting and derisive.

"Well well well, now ain't it cute?" she laughed heartily. "Strawberry's trying to _escape_."

"As if!" snickered a third person, who seemed relatively younger than the first two. Squinting his eyes, Lotso looked frantically around. The female and the younger-sounding male had to be still as statues, because even as they talked, he couldn't see them move. But behind him, someone took a step forward, and it seemed to Lotso that the sound had a menacing quality to it.

"Ah, we had taken for granted that he would make one attempt for freedom, had we not?" asked the cold voice disdainfully. "It is interesting, isn't it, Amina, how he falls back in the same habits of the toys that he wanted to keep trapped at Sunnyside?"

"The hunter has become the hunted" laughed the female, and something in her voice sent a chill down Lotso's spine. "Yes, I get what you mean, Attanasio. We can scent his fear even from here. I'd be tempted to let him bolt for the door and see how far he can get, before I take him back… if he did not disgust me so."

"Understandable, my dear" replied a deep baritone voice, from somewhere next to Amina. Lotso tried to look up in their direction, but the beam of light was still blinding him.

"What are you speaking about?" he growled. "What do you want from me? What's this place? I have the-"

"… the _right_?" interrupted the cold-voiced stranger whom Amina had called Attanasio. He uttered that word with such bitter amusement that several jeers rose from all around Lotso. For the first time, the bear caught fleeting, indistinct movements in the room. With a start, he realized that those nutcases surrounded him on all side. They were way more numerous than their perfect silence and stillness had led him to believe. "Let me get that straight, Lotso – after everything you have done, you actually think you still have _rights_?"

Lotso blinked. "You know my name? I thought you said-"

"I said that we never met_ in person_. But we know you quite well here, by… ah… _fame_."

Something in those words made a warning bell ring in the bear's mind. His eyes narrowed shrewdly. "It's about the Sheriff, isn't it? The Sheriff and his friends, the ones that took down Sunnyside, the ones who…" He looked around. "And you're here on their behalf, aren't ya? To avenge their deaths!"

Again, a chuckle was echoed here and there in the darkness. This time, however, Attanasio did not join the choir, and when he spoke next, the laughs immediately subsided.

"Quite wrong. See, Lotso, you don't get _here _for something so _petty_ as leaving one cowboy doll and some old toys to die in an incinerator."

That left Lotso rather crestfallen. "Then – explain" he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. "If you're not a friend of theirs, who has sent you after me?"

"We've been sent by justice."

"Justice? What _justice?_ I don't know what you mean by that!"

"And _that _is quite correct" chuckled Attanasio. "You never knew what justice was, did you, Lotso? Neither in Sunnyside, nor in your little home in the junkyard. Tell us, how do you like living in the garbage? Is it rewarding?"

"What are you trying to get at? You're not toy enough to look me in the face while you spit your petty insults?"

"And you're not toy enough to look _your mistakes _in the face?"

"My what?" Lotso tried to turn around and look at him, but something whacked his chair hard, and the bear was almost thrown off. He had to grab the armrests in order not to fall.

"Your mistakes" replied Attanasio in a hiss. "Leaving the Sheriff Pride and his companions to die – that was only the tip of the iceberg. You have far worse against you, Lotso. As I said, you don't get _here _just for _that few_."

"What do you get _here _for, then? And what's this place anyway?" raged Lotso.

"You still have not figured it out?" Another footstep, this time closer. As Lotso glanced nervously around, he realized that the room was growing more and more animated by the minute. He distinguished shadowy figures moving, putting their heads together, shifting places. Even the silence had been replaced by a buzz of whispers. And he could feel their stares on him – hostile, unforgiving, cold stares. Why he hadn't noticed them sooner? It felt as though the entire room was glaring at him in reproach.

Amina laughed again, throwing her head back. So sudden and unexpected was her movement, that Lotso jumped. "Seems like we've got Strawberry on the edge of his seat, eh Attanasio?"

"So it has to be" replied Attanasio dryly. "Mr. Spooks, we will need some light, I think."

From the darkness came a ghoulish cry, strident and dissonant. Suddenly the room was lit by a green glow that seemed to reflect off all directions, and as his eyes got used to it, Lotso couldn't repress a scream.

"This is where you are called to come to terms with your crimes" said Attanasio, his voice still laced with cruel amusement. "This is your _trial_, Lotso."


End file.
